


Well It’s Full Speed, Baby (in the wrong direction)

by Byrcca



Series: Equinox [5]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s06e01 Equinox, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 17:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Byrcca
Summary: Sometimes you just have to eat what’s on your plate.





	Well It’s Full Speed, Baby (in the wrong direction)

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, Seema, but I don’t think it’s quite what you were after.

 

_We all had our reasons to be there_  
_We all had a thing or two to learn_  
_We all needed something to cling to_  
_So we did_  
_We all had delusions in our head_  
_We all had our minds made up for us_  
_We had to believe in something_  
_So we did_

~ Forgiven, Jagged Little Pill

 

“...and you remember the mess hall.” 

Harry Kim smiled and swept a hand through the air in a _taa dah_ gesture, encompassing the kitchen, the dining area, and the wall of viewports and the starfield beyond. 

“Yes, of course.”

He had appointed himself her tour guide and one-man moral booster and advocate, and it wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful for the hand of friendship, but the attention was starting to tire her. “I think I got a little turned around though, I thought it would be to our left.”

“You’ll figure it out pretty quickly. And if you do get turned around _Voyager’s_ interface monitors will show you a layout of the ship. Just ask and the computer will tell you where to go.”

“Of course.” She knew that, she was an Academy trained Starfleet officer, unlike a third of _Voyager’s_ crew, though…she wasn’t an officer anymore. Apparently, though, she was back in Starfleet. Marla smiled at Kim as they approached the mess serving counter. She hoped he wasn’t harbouring the beginnings of a crush; his rather energetic overture of friendship was almost more than she could handle at the moment.

“Crewman Gilmore, Harry, it’s wonderful to see you two,” Neelix enthused. “I hope you two are hungry! I’ve made your favourite.” Neelix sent Harry an exaggerated wink. 

“Something certainly smells … interesting.” Marla smiled at Neelix, _Voyager’s_ cook. She hadn’t done much of that in the last few months, couldn’t remember when she’d stopped. Years ago, maybe. She was out of practise. She wondered if her smiles looked more like a grimace. Likely not, the ebullient cook would have reacted if they hadn’t looked natural, surely? 

“Would you care for a hot cup of _raaska_ juice? Freshly squeezed.”

Too much fuss. _Don’t make such a fuss, Marla, you’re alright._ “Actually, what I’d really like is a glass of water.”

“Oh.” 

The cook looked disappointed and Marla hastened to explain. “You have no idea how good a cold glass of water can taste when you’ve gone without one for a long time.” 

And now he looked chagrined, guilty. 

“Of course,” he said, chastising himself, “I should have thought. Why, when I first came aboard _Voyager_ , the first thing I did was fill every vessel I could find with water. I had them stacked halfway to the ceiling! Then I filled the bathtub and just _bathed_ in it! Frollicked! Unheard of, where I’ve been. Where I was then.” 

He paused, took a breath. Should she smile again at the comical image that had sprung to mind with his words, or should she appear sympathetic? He’d implied that wherever he was from didn’t have enough water to waste on bathing. She looked at Ensign Kim; he was grinning and shaking his head, so she smiled slightly. 

“Tell you what, you two find a table and I’ll bring over your trays. Water is free, no rations required, and there’s a replicator right over there.” He smiled again and pointed to his left. 

She followed Ensign Kim, _please, call me Harry_ , to the replicator, then to a table near the viewport. She sipped her drink as she walked, trying to avoid the ice cubes, feeling them tap against her teeth, the cold numbing her lips. They blocked access to the water in the glass and, as she tipped the glass to her mouth, as they shifted and the water sloshed, she worried that it would dribble down her chin. 

She pushed aside a flash of irritation. Harry had ordered for them, two glasses of ice water with ice cubes, thinking he was doing her a favour, thinking she would be delighted at the addition. She had tried to _look_ delighted: that smile had shown her teeth. But she wanted to gulp it down, to drink until it sat like a stone in her belly, to almost choke on it in her haste. And she couldn’t because of the ice. She should have told him, that wouldn’t be unreasonable, would it? She could have simply ordered the replicator to correct the glass of water, it wouldn’t have cared, and Kim likely wouldn’t have either. _Don’t make a fuss._

But she hadn’t and now she was stuck with the ice. 

“The kitchen used to be the Captain’s private dining room,” Kim supplied. 

Marla turned her head and stared at the cooking area, the counters, the cooking pots. She could just make out, in the back behind the serving counter, cupboards that he likely used to store food or cooking implements. “Really?” She turned back to Kim, smiled again. “How innovative.”

“It was all Neelix’ idea. I think it gave the Captain a bit of a surprise when she first saw it.” 

He laughed so she did too. He had a nice laugh, and a genuine smile. It felt good to be in his company, she decided. She should comment. “He didn’t ask permission?”

“You know, I don’t remember.”

“Here you go, two servings of pleeka rind casserole, fresh squeezed _raaska_ juice on the side. _Bon appetit!_ ” He stood at their table, waiting, expectant. “Go ahead, try a bite.”

She glanced at the tray. There was a congealed lump of some brownish substance embedded with smaller lumps of green and white _bits_ that she couldn’t identify. It gave off a sharp scent, slightly musty and bitter, like turnip mixed with mould. 

“It’s good.” Harry lifted a loaded fork to his mouth. He nodded encouragingly. 

Marla tried a small bite. It was tangy, with a sweet undertaste. It was comprised of small cubes that were fibrous on her tongue, and something more gelatinous, chewier, that had a sharp, almost bitter flavour. She swallowed. Reached for her glass of water. “It’s certainly an interesting blend of flavours, Mister Neelix.”

“Oh, please, just call me Neelix, everyone does. Cooking is an artform, you know. You need to balance the savory with the sweet, the bland with the spicy. An adventurous spirit helps— Oh!” He looked past her head toward the far door. “There’s someone… Excuse me a moment. I need to speak with someone.”

“You don’t like it.” Harry was peering at her. He’d already made a dent in his meal, and she wasn’t even holding her fork. 

“It’s unusual. It’s really one of your favourites?”

“Well, when you’ve been in the Delta Quadrant as long as we have…” He paused and sent her a little smile of apology. “I guess you have been in the Delta Quadrant as long as we have. I’m sorry. With Neelix acting as native guide, cook and morale officer, we’ve tried all sorts of strange foods. This isn’t so bad, actually. A word of advice though, always keep a few replicator rations on hand for when he makes leola root stew.”

He made a face and a laugh bubbled out of her. 

“Crewman Gilmore?”

Marla turned her head. A pleasant-looking blonde woman in sciences blue stood beside their table. She looked hesitant, a little anxious. Her eyes darted from Marla’s face to her hair to her hands, back to her eyes. 

“Yes?”

“I’m Samantha Wildman, Naomi’s mother.” She had a pleasant voice, soft and low.

“Oh, yes,” Marla smiled again as her mind formed a mental image of the little girl with long, strawberry blonde hair. _Voyager’s_ captain’s assistant. “I've met her. She’s charming.”

“Charming?!” Bright patches of colour flared in Samantha Wildman’s cheeks, and she frowned, her lips pinching into an angry pucker. “Charming?!” she said again, her voice rising. 

It was done before Marla registered that it had started: a blur of black fabric and pale flesh, the sound like a _crack_ , or the sound of a padd falling onto the deck, then the stinging pain in her cheek as the slap registered along her nerve endings. Harry stood, knocking his chair backward, and a hush fell over the room. 

“Sam!” He reached for the woman, clamped a hand around her forearm.

Marla simply sat and stared at her, watched as her anger ebbed as shock at what she’d done flooded her face. Such an expressive face. Wildman straightened, withdrew her hand, brought her chin up. Her eyes blazed again. 

Marla didn’t flinch. Didn’t bring up a hand to protect her cheek which throbbed, flamed. She wondered if it was bright red. If Naomi Wildman’s mother’s handprint was visible on her skin. 

“She was right over there when our shields went down. When you and your friends stole the field generator and left us to die! A fissure opened right there.” She pointed to a spot near the viewport and Marla obediently turned her head and looked. 

“Samantha!” Neelix had bustled up to the table and put his hand on Wildman’s shoulder. “Oh my,” he said, flustered, anxious. He was making a _fuss_.

Sam glanced at him, looked back at Marla. “One of those life forms almost touched her. Neelix had to shove her into a cupboard and close the door.”

She should tell her she was sorry, she _was_ sorry, but her tongue was frozen in her mouth. Naomi’s mother had a right to her anger. 

“I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter! Not you or the others, either. I understand why Captain Janeway didn’t put you all in the brig, but if I had my way, you’d all be on trial for murder!”

“Sam, please, come with me.” Neelix tugged on her arm, pulled her away, guided her toward the kitchen. 

Marla sat in silence, stiff and wary, waiting. She had felt it, the curiosity, the animosity from the crew. She didn’t blame them. She had wondered at Janeway’s generosity at the time, had put it down to the fact that keeping them in the brig would be a waste of resources—both the manpower needed to guard them, but also their own expertise. They had to earn the air they breathed, the food they ate. They were Starfleet officers, had been Starfleet officers, she corrected, no more, but they hadn’t forgotten their training despite appearances. They could add to _Voyager’s_ collective, could begin to atone for their mistakes on the _Equinox_. 

How foolish. They could never atone. 

“She’s right,” Marla said quietly. Her cheek still stung.

“Are you alright?” Harry sat, reached for her hand which was resting idly beside her water glass. 

“She’s right.” Louder, with more strength in her voice. “If we make it back to the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet will court martial us. We’ll go to jail.”

“Maybe not. You could…” His voice trailed off. Even optimistic Harry Kim couldn’t come up with a way for them to atone for the crime they’d committed. How do you even begin to atone for mass murder? 

She’d fallen off her bicycle when she was a child, had skinned her knee. She could still remember the blood trailing down her shin, the skin ruched up, wrinkled and folded, dark with dirt. Wet, pink flesh studded with tiny rocks, like the _bits_ in the casserole on her plate, like the stone in her belly. She’d cried, wailed, tears and snot streaming down her face, and had run to her mother who’s response had been to glance at her leg then dismiss her. 

_Don’t make such a fuss, Marla, you’re alright. I know it hurts right now, but you need to get back on your bike or you’ll never learn to ride._

***

 

_So take this moment Mary Jane and be selfish_  
_Worry not about the cars that go by_  
_Cause all that matters Mary Jane is your freedom_  
_Keep warm my dear, keep dry_

~ Mary Jane, Jagged Little Pill

**Author's Note:**

> From the album Jagged Little Pill
> 
> Songwriters: Glen Ballard / Alanis Nadine Morissette  
> Forgiven, Mary Jane lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, The Bicycle Music Company


End file.
